Party Girl
by Jedi Trace
Summary: While apprenticed to a master mechanic, Deliah Blue encounters events that change her life forever. LEGACY comics era short story. Canon compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Party Girl  
**Author:** Jedi Trace  
**Timeframe:** _Legacy_ comics, pre-series  
**Genre:** Drama, short story  
**Characters:** Deliah Blue, OCs, Cade Skywalker, Jariah Syn  
**Disclaimer:** LFL owns it and I write for free. All hail the brilliance of John Ostrander and Jan Duursema for creating _Legacy_.  
**Summary:** While apprenticed to a master mechanic, Deliah Blue encounters events that change her life forever.

**A/N:** Special thanks to the lovely and talented **Gabri_Jade** for beta'ing. :)

* * *

**Part 1**

The large storefront sign flashed dull orange, sizzling as if it would sputter out any minute with the fading daylight: _Jaxan's Fixer Shop._ Or, that's what it was supposed to say. Some of the letters were missing, so it actually read: _Ja an's Fix S op._ I looked down at the coordinates on my datapad. This was the right place. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but this run-down shop tucked into a seedy cove on the upper level of Coruscant's undercity wasn't what I'd had in mind - not for the man who was supposed to be the best fixer in the Core.

It wasn't quite far enough down to be in Vongspawn territory, but the various sets of eyes peeking around corners in my direction were nothing friendly. The streets were cluttered with litter and piles of junk in various colors and textures that I probably shouldn't look at too close. And it smelled.

A tattered figure of some hunched-over species peeled away from the shadow of a nearby tapcafe and started staggering toward me. I rang the bell on Jaxan's darkened door.

Nothing happened. I tried the door handle. Locked. Must be after business hours. By the time I rang the bell again, Ratty Man was getting closer. I hoped Jaxan would answer the door soon because I'd hate to have to shoot someone my first day in this system.

Locks scraped open and a hard-faced man appeared in the doorway. He was tall and thin and sized me up with a single glance while wiping his hands on a greasy rag. "You Dezi's girl?"

"Yeah," I answered. "Are you Jaxan?"

"Uh-huh." It was a grunt more than a word and he motioned me inside with a nod of his head.

The inside wasn't much more to look at than the outside. A desk, few chairs, work counter and table, all worn-looking with badly painted attempts to cover blaster marks. Jaxan kept walking and I followed him past a window overlooking a huge garage into a room that was considerably more lived-in. He didn't tell me to sit, so I just stood there holding my travel cases. There was a lounger against one wall and a comm station on the other. At the far end, was a small food prep area and table only big enough for one or maybe two people to sit.

Jaxan was looking at me. Scowling, more like it. "Your dad was the finest apprentice I ever had," he said in flat, disapproving tone. I didn't know what to say, so I nodded. My dad, Dezi, had told me all about Jaxan. "Your dad says you're better than him," he continued. "I'm takin' his word for it. An old man like me has no business taking on a new apprentice."

I had to say something now. "I work hard. And I learn fast."

His expression didn't change, but I felt his frown. "Who is your Ma?"

Guess Dad wouldn't have had any reason to tell him that. "Tilly," I said.

"I remember her. Nice lady." He looked me over, closer this time. "Tilly didn't teach you any manners, girl?"

Took me a minute to figure out what he meant and then I was embarrassed. "I work hard and I learn fast, _sir._"

"Huh." That grunt again. "Well, you saw most of the place on the way in. Reception's up front, garage is in the back. Office and my room are down that hall and your room is upstairs. Follow me."

Jaxan led me up a narrow staircase and opened a plain, brown door at the top. I squeezed past him with my bags and put them down in the middle of the room. "We'll have to share the laundry unit in the kitchen, but anything else you need should be here." He glanced around, announced that dinner was in an hour and headed back down the stairs.

My room was small but clean, with a bed, desk, closet and private refresher. All the necessities. Except for decoration. The walls were gray, the desk was black and the bed cover was some anonymous shade of brown. Fortunately, I had a couple of bright throws in my luggage that would add _some_ color. Lifting the cases on to the bed, I started to unpack. Whoever had lived here before must have been a guy. There was no way all my clothes were going to fit. Halfway through the first case, the closet was almost full and I hadn't even unpacked my boots yet.

:--:--:--:--:

I lost track of time trying to arrange all my clothes and things and Jaxan was frowning for real when I got to dinner. "If I'm gonna feed and board you, girl, I expect you to be on time."

"Yessir." _Spast._ I waited for him to motion to one of the chairs before I sat down. The food smelled delicious and there was a lot of it. We ate in silence and I tried to study him without looking like I was looking.

He'd called himself an old man, but he only sported a few lines around his eyes and mouth. Genetics, that was. He was half human, half Zeltron and full-blooded Zeltrons don't show wrinkles. Well, not for a very long time. His hair was white, pulled back into a long braid, and the color accented his skin tone. Humans would have said that he looked "tanned." It took me forever to understand the concept of "sun tanning" when I was a child. The fair-skinned humans who came to Zeltros would lay out by the pools for days at a time and Ma tried to explain that they were trying to get their skin to change color. Never made any sense to me.

Jaxan pushed his empty plate away and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He was lean and firm with the kind of muscles you get from years of hard labor and his hands were speckled with black, even though he'd washed them before dinner. "Tell me your name, again."

I hadn't told him the first time. "Deliah."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"I never trained a girl before." It wasn't a question, so I took a bite and waited.

"You may have noticed that we aren't in the nicest part of town," he continued. "I get some rough types in here. Pirates, bounty hunters, smugglers, small-time crime lords. They may give you a hard time. That gonna be a problem?"

I shrugged. "I got six older brothers and I crewed with one of them in Hutt space for a year. I can handle myself."

"Can you fight?"

"If I have to."

"Can you shoot?"

"Sniper-level stats with blasters, bows and darts."

"You work with fingernails like that?"

_What?_ I looked down at my hands and my manicured nails, painted my favorite shade of purple. I thought they looked really good and was about to say so when Jaxan stood up and took his plate to the counter. "Never seen a mechanic without grease around his…her….nails," he mumbled.

"Rex-Wax soap," I said. He turned and cocked an eyebrow like I'd just spoken some obscure language. "That's what it's called," I smiled, holding up my hands. "Gets rid of the grease and keeps your hands soft. I brought some with me if you want to try it."

"Huh." He put his dishes in the cleaner. "Breakfast is at 0800 and we start work right after." Shaking his head, he walked out of the eating area. "Never trained a girl before..."

:--:--:--:--:

That night, I lay in the bed staring at the white ceiling reminding myself that this was what I had wanted. Dad was a master mechanic, the best on Zeltros, and he had trained under Jaxan as a young man. My earliest childhood memories were helping Dad in his shop. I loved the smell of oil and grease and the way the machines clicked together. Every broken engine was a new puzzle to be fixed. The vibration of a newly-working engine was a thrill under the fingertips.

It drove Ma crazy. She was always shooing me out of the shop to go hang out with girls and boys my age. I couldn't really blame her. Her Ma had died early and she'd had to work all her life. I was her only daughter and she wanted nothing more than for me to have the happy, care-free life she'd missed as a child.

It had been Dad's idea that I come here to apprentice under his old master. He said I was too talented to stay on Zeltros and waste my life in clubs and resorts entertaining the tourists. My parents had argued about it for months and, in the end, they'd left the decision to me. It had sounded good at the time. But now, alone in this plain room, I hoped I hadn't made a mistake.

_(continued…)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Jaxan and I got off to a rocky start. The next morning, I'd no sooner walked into the garage when Jaxan pointed a greasy wrench at me. "You can't dress like that here."

Dress like what? I was wearing what I always wore: pants, short top with detached sleeves, belt, boots…

Jaxan slid out from under the belly of a transmission and stood in front of me. "Remember what I said about the clients that come in here? You aren't on Zeltros, girl. You can't have your…" He waved his hand vaguely at my chest, stumbling for the right words. "Your…breasts…hanging out like that."

I looked down. Were they? The top was low-cut, but the important parts were covered. "This is the only kind of clothes I have."

And they were perfectly respectable, thank you. I propped my hands on my hips to say so when Jaxan rolled his eyes and plucked a fasten-up jacket from a hook on the wall. "Cover up, then. At least while you're working."

I put the jacket on but he needn't have worried. He didn't let me interact with the clients. At all. I saw them look in my direction, sure, but Jaxan always found something for me to work on in the back while he conducted business.

"You don't have to coddle me, you know," I said one day, irritated by his over-protectiveness.

He just looked at me. "If you think that, then you've never seen your dad get angry."

Turns out, he just didn't want them coming after me if I kriffed up the job.

He was a good teacher. Patient and smart. I could see some of my dad in him. Or did I see him in my dad? Either way, he was easy to work with and I followed him around, awed like some dumb-struck kitling over the magic he could work with his hands and tools.

After the first week, we fell into something of a routine. Work, meals, chores around the shop. And we talked. He already knew my family, but I found out that he was a widower. His wife had died years ago in a speeder accident. As far as I could tell, he wasn't seeing anyone and had been mostly alone until I'd come to live with him.

I'd been there a month before he finally let me accept a work order and he hovered over my shoulder the whole time. The customer was a male Ryn named Karson. He was a little rough around the edges, with frayed clothes and an impressive scar on his cheek, but he was nice enough.

He brought in a small freighter with a blown field generator. Said he'd done it trying to escape Black Sun, but I'd learned from Jaxan that we didn't care how the ships got slagged, as long as the owners paid for the repairs. Jaxan warned me that clients would give all kinds of sob stories about how they'd been persecuted and needed a discount to get their ship fixed so they could go feed the homeless with their tricked-out illegal weapons systems and sawed-off blasters. Right.

Karson sat on a bench in the garage and watched me work. Jaxan didn't normally allow that kind of thing, but Karson had marched right in like he owned the place. "You must be new," he said to my feet sticking out from under his ship.

I didn't bother to slide out, so I answered the hydraulic piston over my head. "Yep."

"Glad to see the old man have some company."

I poked my head out that time, scooting my goggles down on my nose. "Jaxan? You know him?"

"Oh, yeah," he said with a grin. "I been coming here for years. Jaxan's always taken good care of me."

As if on cue, Jaxan appeared. "If you're gonna hang around, Karson, at least make yourself useful and get us some caf. I gotta teach Deliah here how to fix this temperamental murglak of a ship of yours."

Jaxan slid under the ship with me, bringing his favorite hydrospanner. "Decent fellow, Karson," he said. "Don't know who taught him how to fly, though. He brings this ship in every three months with something new busted. Hand me the torch gun."

"Sounds like he's in the wrong profession." I held up a length of soldering wire while Jaxan ignited the torch gun and fused a piece of ruptured hull.

"He's a Ryn," he answered over the roar of the gun. "Are _any_ of them in the right profession?"

He had a point.

Karson came back balancing three cups of caf and Jaxan shut down the torch. "Son, I don't know how you managed to fly with this hole in your ship, but this is gonna take a couple of days."

"S'okay," I heard him answer. Jaxan wiggled out from our spot and motioned me to follow. I wasn't a big fan of caf, but I sipped it anyway.

"Got any plans tonight?" Jaxan asked, leaning against a storage locker.

Karson shrugged. "Thought I might hit the club."

"The club, eh?" Jaxan put down his cup and wiped his hands again. "How about you take Deliah with you?"

"Excuse me?" And, no, I didn't say 'sir' that time.

Jaxan looked at me, but spoke to Karson. "She's been cooped up with me here long enough. She needs to get out." He regarded me with a half-knowing smile. Had I been playing the music in my room too loud? I always closed the door…

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. "You're a young woman and you've been working hard. You deserve a break. Go. Have fun." Quieter, he said, "It's okay. I trust him."

There was no arguing after that. Karson showed up one hour after quitting time dressed in what were probably his best clothes. I was wearing one of my favorite outfits: brightly-striped blue and yellow pants with a matching top and fringe-laden brown boots. The local night strip was only a few blocks away and we set out on foot. It was a mild night with a warm breeze that wrapped around us in gentle waves as we walked.

Karson glanced at me awkwardly, as if he wasn't quite accustomed to being in the company of a woman he didn't know or hadn't paid for. "Where are you from?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Was he serious? He was shorter than me and I looked down at him. My pink skin and red hair weren't a dead giveaway?

"Well," he stammered at the look on my face. "Zeltros, obviously, but what region? Some friends and I were there last year. Didn't want to leave."

Typical tourists. "Western region," I said, answering his question. "Near the city of Marstan."

We stopped at an intersection and waited for the signal to cross. I could see multi-colored lights up ahead, flashing in tempo with the alluring beat of dance music.

"So." Jaxan glanced over at me. "That hormone thing. How does it work?"

"Pheromones," I corrected him. "What do you mean, 'how does it work'? You didn't figure it out while you were there?" I shot him a sideways teasing grin.

He blushed. Or, I think he blushed. Hard to say with a Ryn, but he'd be a rare one to have visited my home planet and not have figured out the allure of the place. "I mean," he waved his hand, trying to choose words. "Can you control it? The way people feel around you and all."

Weird question. I thought about it for a minute. "It's not like Jedi and those mind tricks, no."

We paused at another intersection where the streets were just starting to get crowded and already-inebriated party-goers stumbled messily down side alleys. Amateurs.

"So you can't make me do something against my will?" he pressed.

"No, I can't make you do anything you don't want to do." We crossed and had to slow down in the jostling crowd.

"But you can make me swoon?" His eyes had a mischievous sparkle in them, like he was suddenly having a little too much fun with this game of multiple questions.

I leaned close, turning it on just a little. "Oh, yeah." My lips were almost touching his ear as I lowered my voice. "I can make you _swoon_, darlin'."

He staggered back, not quite glassy-eyed, but close. His eyes roved over me as if he was seeing me for the first time, his gaze uncomfortably tainted with desire. He blinked and shook his head. "_Damn._"

We reached the main drag and I stopped, absorbing the atmosphere and waiting for Karson to recover. Neon lights flashed up and down the strip and music spilled from open doors and windows, clashing and blending in the intoxicating beat of night life. Party-goers mingled and jostled from bar to bar, adorned with various souvenirs and holding their little disposable cups over the crowd in an attempt not to spill whatever potion they had purchased.

Karson appeared at my elbow, clear-eyed again. "You could have warned me," he said, only half-frowning.

"True," I answered casually. But that wouldn't have been as much fun. I raised my voice over the noise. "Where to?"

He nodded to the left and took my arm. "This way."

Weaving through the crowd, he led me almost to the end of the street. We stopped across from what was one of the biggest clubs I'd seen, even by Zeltros' standards. A huge sign flashed across the length of the roof: _PARTY GIRLS._

"Here?" Not that it didn't look like a nice place, but the line of patrons waiting to get in was wrapped around the building and half-way down the street.

"Yeah," Karson answered. "Hottest club in town."

"Obviously. Got a plan for getting in this week?"

He took my arm again and we made our way across the street. "They know me."

I wasn't _trying_ to be skeptical, but I had my doubts. Karson didn't strike me as the playing type but, sure enough, we were waved right in after a brief show of buddy-boy greetings with the door man. Who knew.

The interior was just as flashy as the outside with surprisingly high-end furnishings and décor for a mid-level Coruscant dive. We were greeted by a smiling green Twi'lek who showed us to a table opposite the biggest bar I'd ever seen. No joke. The bar stretched almost wall-to-wall and was deep enough for a Jawa to lay across it and not touch the barkeep or the patrons. Gaming tables and sports screens surrounded the perimeter, but most of the focus seemed to be on the bar. I quickly found out why.

The barkeep, a male humanoid with orange spiked hair, picked up a microphone and crooned in an over-blown dramatic voice: "Are you _Ready! To! Party!?!_" The crowd went wild with anticipation that buffeted my senses to the point that I was buzzed just from hearing them. Bad part about being empathic.

There was a band at the far end and they cranked up with a pounding tune. From doors at each side of the bar, females of various species entered the room and strutted up on to the bar. They were all dressed alike – high heels, short skirts, and tight tops with the words "Party Girls" splashed across their breasts in brightly-colored letters. Human, Twi'lek, Zeltron, Falleen…they all oozed sex or the promise of it as they danced on the wide bar and tantalized patrons into spending even more credits for watered-down drinks and the honor of watching them gyrate seductively.

I looked around for a serving droid. Come to find out, there were no serving droids here. After the first song, most of the dancing girls came down from the bar and started waiting tables. A red-haired human came to our table and smiled at me, almost predatorily. "Hello, there." She leaned across the table, propping on her wrists and all but spilling out of her top. "Haven't seen you around."

"New in town."

"I get off at two," she purred.

I leaned into Karson, draping my arms over his shoulders. "Sorry, hon', but I'm with him."

Pouting just a little, she took our drink orders and pranced away. Karson looked at me, frowning. "Deliah, this isn't -"

"I know," I cut him off and instantly felt his discomfort.

He put his hand on my arm and turned me to face him. "What I mean, is…you're a pretty girl and all, but you're not my type."

Right away, I knew what his 'type' was and I placed my hand on his reassuringly. "'s okay, Karson. She's not my type, either." I swear he breathed an actual sigh of relief. "C'mon." I pulled him to his feet. "Let's dance."

The music was loud and pounding – the perfect kind to lose yourself in. Sights and smells of passion and abandon swirled around us and I leaned my head back, drowning in the carnal pulse. Jaxan had been right. It was good to get out. Good to release and feel something other than oil and engine metal.

We got home late, or early, depending on who you asked. The shop was dark except for a single light in the office. I went to turn it off and stopped dead in my tracks. "Karson!"

He came running and I was already kneeling over Jaxan's body when he arrived. "Help me!" I called, checking for a pulse. The vein in his neck throbbed under my finger and he was breathing. There were no blaster marks or blood...

It was a moment before I realized that Karson hadn't moved, but remained standing in the doorway, perfectly calm. "It's all right, Deliah," he said. Wordlessly, he moved across the room as if his feet were heavier than they had been just two minutes ago. Squatting beside the desk, he picked up an empty liquor bottle. In my rush to tend to Jaxan, I hadn't seen it there.

"He sometimes drinks too much," Karson explained, sounding tired and sad. "Usually after he's lost a lot of money at the sabacc tables. Bit of a gambling problem, I'm afraid."

I looked down at Jaxan and tried to imagine him doing something that stupid. "Are you sure?"

Karson tossed the empty bottle in the trash. "You never wondered why a fixer like him doesn't have a bigger shop? Or better tools? Or any other hired hands?"

Guess I hadn't. Blowing all your money on sabacc and booze would explain it, though.

"Go on." Karson bent down and slipped his arm carefully under Jaxan's shoulder. "He wouldn't want you to see him like this. I'll get him to bed."

I offered to help, but Karson insisted that he could handle it and I left with one last glance back. There was something gentle and protective in the way that Karson lifted the barely-conscious man to his feet.

My buzz from the club was gone and I went to bed trying very hard to picture how someone with so much potential to get rich could throw it away like that.

_(continued…)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

_-one year later-_

It was mid-day and the speaker monitor in the garage crackled to life with the sound of pounding from the reception area, like someone was beating on the desk. Elbow-deep in the guts of a Corellian YT-2400 freighter, I cauterized the drive engine wires and dropped to the floor. I'd learned the hard way, after an explosion and subsequent lecture from Jaxan, never to leave live wires unattended when I went to answer the front door.

The banging got louder. "I'm coming!" I yelled, wiping my hands on a grease rag.

I expected a crowd to be making all the ruckus, but it was only one client – a male Feeorin with a pocked face and a big stick. He didn't waste time on pleasantries. "My ship ready, girl?"

It was his ship I'd been working on before he interrupted me, but I didn't tell him that. "No." I planted my hands on the desk. "I said a week and it'll be a week."

He leaned forward, reaching casually for the front of my work jacket. "I thought you might be a little faster than that." His breath reeked from the rotting teeth behind his sneer. "You see, I've got a lady friend waiting for me and I'm getting lonely. Maybe _you_ can keep me company, since you ain't fixed my ship yet."

"How about _this,_ lover." I leaned close, pulling a Merr-Sonn hold-out blaster from my pocket, and planted it firmly in his chest. "Maybe you should get your hands off me before I blast the only part of you that your lady friend might be interested in."

His eyes went wide with surprise. What kind of idiot did he think I was?

"Boss man know how you treat your clients?" he growled.

"Boss man _taught_ me how to treat my clients," I snapped back, retracting the blaster. "Now, get out. And I'm charging you extra for wasting my time."

The door clanged shut behind him and I pocketed the blaster, clicking on the safety.

"That's my girl," said a voice from behind.

I recognized it and turned around, smiling. "You could get yourself shot creeping up on a girl without warning."

Karson stood in the doorway, a look of mischief playing across his lips. "It might be worth it for a show like that." He pushed away from the wall and dropped into a chair that squeaked in protest. "How ya been, Dee?"

"Been good. What you doing sneaking in here after being gone half a year?"

He shrugged. If I didn't know better, I'd think he looked self-conscious. "Found a friend and got a little busy," he said, shifting awkwardly.

Yep. I called it.

"Jaxan letting you work up front, now?" he asked. No, the change of subject wasn't obvious at all.

"Deliah does everything around here," Jaxan answered, toweling his face as he walked in and patted me on the shoulder with an approving nod. "In fact, she's taking over next week so I can sit in a wading pool on the roof and sip fruity drinks."

I hit him with my grease rag. "What happened to you?"

"Minor altercation with the lubricant hose. Needs a new spigot."

"I'll get a new one tomorrow." His head was smattered with clumps of lube, making glossy streaks in his hair. "Although, this is a good look for you," I said, wiping his braid with the towel. "All shiny. Have you ever thought about coloring-"

The front door opened with a clatter and a huge male Tof entered followed by a posse of equally large thugs. I felt Jaxan's fear before I saw it in his clenched jaw.

"Get in the garage. Both of you," he ordered, just low enough for us to hear. "I'll handle this."

Karson grabbed my wrist and pulled me down the hall, although he kept looking back. "What's going on?" I whispered.

"Bad news." He closed the garage door behind us and locked it. "Bad, bad business."

:--:--:--:--:

It must have been very bad news because I found Jaxan half-drunk in the office that night. I had not seen him drink since that first night after Party Girls, but I knew he hadn't stopped. He just hid it from me, drinking when I was out for the night or in bed. I'd find the empty bottles in the trash bin when he wasn't careful enough to take them outside and his eyes would be glassy and red the next day.

I never said anything. What _could_ I say? He was a grown man and I wasn't his keeper; but I'd have helped him, if I could.

Kicked back in his chair with his feet up on the desk, he held up a half-empty bottle of Whyren's Reserve and motioned me into the office. "Have some." He wasn't quite slurring, but his hands trembled as he poured me a glass. "Sit."

I sat in the only other chair in the room as he took a long swig and tilted his head to the side, watching the blank wall above his feet with a curious fascination.

"I have a son," he said, finally. "Did I ever tell you that?"

"No, you didn't." I don't know if it was the liquor or what, but this unexpected candor was a little unnerving.

"Yes, a good boy...good boy." He set his glass down with a shaky clank. "Won't have anything to do with his old man these days, though. Probably for the best." I didn't usually get bursts of emotion from Jaxan, but a wave of sadness leaked from him and spilled into the room. Sadness and…regret. "I left him this," he said, motioning vaguely to the office walls. "All this and he won't want it. Won't want his Pa's dirty old shop…"

The air was thick with his pain and I spoke gently, projecting feelings of comfort. "Where is he now?"

Jaxan rubbed a rough hand over his tired face. "Don't know for sure. Last I heard, he was piloting a tourist pleasure yacht on Zeltros. It's the one place in the galaxy he knows I won't go to find him. Not since Gennie..." His voice trailed off and he sank lower into his chair, almost smiling.

Maybe if I could keep him talking, I wouldn't have to carry him to his room later. "Gennie?"

His lazy grin turned wistful. "My wife. My Gennie. She was an incredible woman. Smart. Sassy. Full-blooded, like you, with the prettiest red skin." His head fell forward and I couldn't tell if he was falling asleep or remembering or both. I took a sip in the silence and he pulled his head up, slowly...reluctantly. "Gil - that's my son - blamed me when she died. She was out shopping and Gil said I should have been with her. Should have protected her." He reached for his glass with a desperate gesture and knocked it off the desk, splashing whiskey all over his pants.

That was my cue. "C'mon, Jaxan." I stood and took his hand, pulling him to his feet. He didn't resist, which was a good thing since he was bigger than me. We made it to the door of his bedroom and he wouldn't let me go any farther.

"You're a good kid, Dee," he said, slurring just a little as he leaned against the doorframe. "Tell your Dad and your Ma that I said so."

Startled, I answered, "Thank you…sir," but the door was already closing.

:--:--:--:--:

Our lubrication hose must have been older than I thought because I had to go to three different parts stores to find the right size spigot. A new hose would have been cheaper, I thought ruefully as I rounded the corner to Jaxan's shop. The smell of smoke hit me just before I got to the demolished front door.

I looked in long enough to see that the reception area had been completely trashed before sprinting around to the back entrance. Smoke poured from the garage and my heart jumped into my throat. I looked around, but didn't see anyone suspicious and made my way back to the front, more cautious this time.

Picking through the remains of the front room and kitchen, I heard noise coming from the office. My weapons were upstairs, but there was a blaster hidden in the' fresher and I pried it from its spot making as little noise as possible. It was small, only big enough to do damage at point-blank range, but it was better than nothing and I tucked it into the top of my boot.

I wanted to call out to Jaxan, but I couldn't risk blowing what little element of surprise I had. The damage was too messy to have been a professional job, unless destroying the shop had been part of the hit.

Sliding carefully down the hallway, I reached the office door and peered into the room slowly. _"Jaxan!"_ The cry fell from my mouth before I could stop it. He was sitting on the floor, propped against the wall, and blood was everywhere. Karking everywhere.

I ran to him, not even bothering or caring to see if anyone else was in the room.

"Behind -" he whispered to me. It was a wet sound from bloody lips. "Behind you…"

The ugliest voice I'd ever heard rumbled behind me, making every hair on my body spring to life. "There you are, girly."

I turned just enough to look over my shoulder. It was the Tof who'd come in the shop yesterday, the one who'd spooked Jaxan so bad. He was leaning against the far wall, blaster in hand, looking arrogant and superior. "Your employer owes me money. A great deal of money, but he seems to have forgotten where he put it."

Jaxan shuffled and I knelt beside him, careful not to make any sudden moves. His eyes had gone dim. It was his blood all over the walls.

He tried to reach for me, his hand twitching uselessly at his side, and his lips moved several times before any sound came out. "Ru-" he gasped. "_Run_."

I grabbed his clammy hand and watched in horror as the light left his eyes…and he was gone.

He was gone and I couldn't breathe.

"So, I'm thinking," the voice grated behind me again, "that maybe _you_ know where the money is. Should I have let him live long enough to cut you and make him talk? Or should I just hurt you now?"

A cold calm settled over me. The energy that my people put into passion could also be put into anger. No, he would not be cutting me or hurting me. Not today.

I stood slowly with my hands held up in a position of surrender. "I don't know anything about no money. I just fix things. Old man's business was his own."

"That how it is?" he asked.

"Yeah." I faced him. "That's how it is."

He sneered down at me and I wondered, briefly, where the rest of his men were. There was no way he'd done all this damage on his own.

"Gimme the gun," he said, pointing to my boot.

Shoulda known he'd see the gun. It was now or never. I took a few steps forward, closing the distance between us. He didn't react. Stupid man, not to be wary just because a girl was walking toward him. "This gun?" I asked, reaching down into my boot.

He didn't get to answer. I drew the blaster, planted it under his chin and pulled the trigger. It happened so fast, his face didn't even register surprise before it was blown off his body.

I didn't wait for his body to fall. I didn't stay and take his weapons or credits or wait for his men to come charging into the office.

I did what Jaxan had told me to do. I turned and ran.

If the Tof's thugs heard the blast or came after me, I didn't see them. I just ran and ran until my lungs ached and tears streamed down my face and I had to stop and slide down an alley wall before I got sick.

The cold ground was wet and I waited for shouts or the pounding of boots - for blaster fire and pain or something to cut through the fog. I waited and heard only the sound of my own breathing as the fog closed in and the alley faded to black.

:--:--:--:--:

It was dark when the world came back into focus, although focus was probably the wrong word. Blur was more like it. I must have commed Karson because he was there and had wrapped me in a blanket. It was a brown blanket and smelled musty and it was warm. It had to be warm because I was cold and wet and covered in blood.

His eyes were shiny. Were Ryn eyes always that shiny? And they were dripping water. Didn't know Ryn eyes did that…

:--:--:--:--:

"You can't go back," a voice was saying and I looked up from my cup of caf. I was in Karson's ship and he'd let me use his fresher to wash. I was wearing what was probably one of his shirts.

"Deliah? Did you hear me?" he asked, leaning across the small table.

"I heard you." My voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away. "I can't go back."

"Not even for your things. They might be watching and they'll kill you."

I nodded. "What about -" I couldn't say it. "He's still there."

Karson took my hand, kneading it gently. "I called emergency services. And I'll try to track down his son."

For some reason, I thought that might not be a good idea, but I didn't have a better one. I shivered and regretted the caf as my stomach turned.

Karson came and sat beside me with another brown blanket. He wrapped it around my shoulders and he didn't pull away when I leaned against him. The blanket smelled like grease. It smelled good – like Jaxan and the place I'd started to call home - and I shivered and pressed it against my face. Karson pulled me closer and I lowered my head into his lap.

I closed my eyes and saw blood. Blood and Jaxan's weathered face and his white hair clumped with stuff worse than blood.

Tears soaked into Karson's pants and he didn't complain.

_(continued…)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

We decided that I should lay low for a while. Karson let me stay on his ship while he went about his normal business in addition to doing what he could about what was left of Jaxan's shop. Local authorities wrote it up as a deal gone bad between equal parties of delinquents and investigated no further than to look for dangerous or stolen items on the property.

Back on the ship, I couldn't stand to sit still and think, so I did repairs. There was plenty that needed to be fixed and it kept me busy. If I stayed for any length of time, Karson would have the smoothest running ship in the galaxy.

He found Jaxan's son, eventually. Gil gave instructions for the shop and everything in it to be sold at public auction and, no, he would not come to claim his father's body. Let it be incinerated by the authorities, he said.

"Does he really hate his father so much?" I asked one night over dinner.

Karson looked at me over his bowl of soup and I saw deliberation behind his eyes, as if he was trying to decide what to say. He finally answered, "I don't think he hates him so much as he is…hurt. And angry."

"Why? I mean, I know he blames Jaxan for not being there at the speeder accident -"

"Gil doesn't believe it was an accident," he interrupted. There was a bitter edge to his voice that made me want to know more and nothing else at the same time.

Karson stared down at his cup, as if the contents held some secret or answer. "Jaxan gambled back then, too, and he got into trouble more than once but always managed to clear his debts before the collectors came looking for him.

"I don't know what happened before Gennie's death, but I know it was bad. Bad enough for the people Jaxan owed to hunt him down. He tried to hide on Zeltros, but they found him. Or, according to Gil, they found Gennie."

I slowly put two and two together. "Gil thinks she was murdered."

Karson shrugged noncommittally, but the furrow of his brow spoke for him. "Gil had begged his father for years to give up the sabacc tables, but he wouldn't – or couldn't. A sad thing...addiction."

Yes. I nodded silently. In the silence that grew, I suddenly wished I could go back in time and see then what I knew now and to somehow find a way to fix it. Somehow find a way to help him.

I thought of Jaxan's face when he'd spoken of Gennie and Gil. Of his warm smile and the longing that he'd projected unawares. He'd loved them, but it hadn't been enough to save them…or to save him from himself.

The food on my plate had grown cold and my stomach protested the thought of eating, anyway. I got up to take my plate to the disposal and had my back to Karson when he said that he'd talked to someone named Franc.

"Franc who?" I asked, only vaguely interested in the answer. I cleaned my dishes and reached for Karson's empty plate.

"He's the owner of Party Girls. I ran into him today and he asked about you."

"Me?" I turned around, alarmed. Nothing like being talked about behind your back when you're supposed to be in hiding to ruin your false sense of security. "What the hell does that mean?" I was scared and mad and didn't try to hide it.

"Calm down, Dee," Karson answered, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "He's just seen you with me the times we've been at the club together. One of his girls turned up pregnant and had to quit, and he asked if you would be interested in a job."

I leaned against the sink, trying to decide if a job offer from a glorified skin peddler was a good thing or not. "What kind of job?" I asked. Yeah, I was suspicious. There wouldn't be a club in this part of the system that made all its money legally and I was trying to get _away_ from the bad guys, not closer to them.

Karson's face remained neutral, but I could tell he knew what I was thinking. "Just waiting tables and dancing. Totally legit," he said.

Later, I sat in the cockpit and stared out at the dull hangar walls, weighing my options. Getting a job in another garage was out of the question. Too easy to be identified. I had some credits saved, but not enough to get home, or even to get off the planet. Karson had been more than generous to let me stay with him, but we were wearing on each other, I could tell. It was time for me to do something else and slinging drinks in a bar was as good a gig as any right now.

Call it paranoia, but my only fear was that one of the sleemos who'd trashed Jaxan's place might recognize me. I'd been wearing my work jacket and Jaxan had rushed me out so fast that I doubted they'd seen anything more than the back of my head. But still, Zeltron red hair was pretty obvious.

The next morning, I dyed my hair blue. Bright kriffing blue. Looked really good, too. With lips and fingernails painted to match, I headed down to the club with Karson and was prancing around in a short skirt with "Party Girls" stretched across a skinny-strapped top that night.

Turns out, it wasn't a half-bad job. Some of the girls complained about the patrons, but I didn't have any problems. I treated my tables good and they returned the favor with generous tips. Or maybe I just knew how to flirt right. Ma would be proud.

:--:--:--:--:

I'd been there a few weeks when Ardel, the female Togruta in charge of the dancers, called me to her office. "How's it going, Deliah?" she asked, resting her elbows on her desk and smiling openly as if my answer would be the most interesting thing she'd heard all day.

Smile or not, there was something predatory about her and it made me nervous. "Good," I answered, putting on my polite-friendly face. "Goin' good."

"You happy with the job? The money?"

She was being nice enough, so why did I want to turn around and walk out? "Yes. Both. Thanks."

Ardel leaned across her desk, turning the Genuine dial up another notch. "How would you like to make even _more_ money without working any extra?"

She could have stopped right there. I might have been new, but I wasn't some stoopa gullipud fresh off the family farm.

"You may know already," she continued, "that some of our girls earn a rather substantial income by entertaining our more prominent clients...privately."

Yeah, I knew. I'd seen them going off into back rooms and it didn't take much imagination to figure out that they weren't giving out guided tours of the kitchen.

Ardel looked at me expectantly and I kept my expression neutral when I answered, "I've heard a little about it."

She nodded as if we were in some kind of agreement. "Well, then, you should be flattered to know that a very wealthy patron has taken an interest in you. A male Zabrak with an affinity for _zest._"

Why was I not surprised? _Zest_ was the slang term for pheromones. Some sentients were addicted to it. They craved it as much as any spice addict and would pay good money to score a hit from a Zeltron or Falleen for a night.

"How much?" I asked. The answer didn't really matter. I was just curious.

"You'd get fourty percent and we'd get sixty."

"What's that in creds?"

"For you?" She tapped a screen on her desk, scrolling through names and numbers. "Fourty percent would be two weeks' pay."

_Stang._ I could see why the other dancers went for it. Especially the Twi'leks - they'd been trafficked in slave trade for so long, they thought it was normal.

Not me or anyone I knew from home, though. Our mothers taught us young to respect ourselves and to own our sexuality. I liked to have fun as much as anyone, but it was on my terms. My choice.

"Not interested." I gave a little nod and turned to leave.

"Fifty percent."

I glanced back and Ardel was coming around the desk, still wearing that fake friendly face.

Planting my feet, I stood my ground, refusing to back up as she approached. "It's not about the creds."

When she was close enough to touch, she stopped and twitched her nose, like she was trying to smell me or something. "The way you dance, Deliah, I'd have pegged you for a sure thing."

I'd have said I was sorry to disappoint her, but I wasn't.

"Never met a modest Zeltron," she clucked. "Is it because he's Zabrak? Those horns can be a bit of a challenge. Or maybe you aren't as much fun as you look. How embarrassing."

Rising to the bait, I gave her my best come-hither look and pressed against her until my lips almost touched her lekku. "Oh, I'd make your Zabrak change his religion, lady. But I'm not for sale."

I walked out without being dismissed, briefly wondering if I'd still have a job in the morning. One of my previously-empty tables was occupied now and I snatched a serving tray from the rack and shimmied through the crowd. Two human males, one dark-skinned and one light-skinned, were leaning over a datapad discussing the display.

I stopped and leaned my thigh against the edge of the table. "What'll it be, boys?"

"Bottle of Corellian," the light one with blond hair answered. Neither of them looked up.

When I returned with the bottle, they'd gone from staring at the datapad to arguing about it. I filled their glasses, catching pieces of conversation about creds and ship parts and something called "Rav."

"That gonna be it, sweets? Don't want nuthin' to eat?" I put the bottle on the table, nudging the datapad just enough to get noticed.

The dark-skinned one glanced up and looked me over with a practiced gaze. "I dunno, cheeka. What's good?"

"Oh, it's _all_ good, lover," I said, cocking my head so that my hair almost brushed his arm. He looked like a player and players tipped good.

"Then bring us whatever _you_ like," he answered.

Yeah, he knew the game. Smuggler, maybe? I leaned in closer, making a show of examining his tattoos. "I like the spicy stuff, flyboy. Think you can handle it?"

"You bet I can."

The blond was watching us with an amused expression, half-leaning on the table with his glass almost to his lips. "I dunno, Syn," he said. "My money's on the girl."

"Oooh, smart _and_ handsome," I teased. "You boys picked the right table tonight, because I'm gonna take _real_ good care of you."

Two more bottles of Corellian ale and four spicy, exotic appetizers later, my boys - it was against rules to ask for names and I had to call them something - my boys called it a night. The one named Syn had finally pushed his plate away, but the blond had eaten everything and asked for more until the very end when he paid the tab and handed me my tip in person rather than leave it on the table.

After the offensive business with Ardel, it hadn't been a bad night after all.

:--:--:--:--:

Karson wasn't on the ship when I got back at dawn, which was unusual. Tamping down a flare of worry, I looked around for any signs of trouble and was about to reach for the comm when Karson stuck his head through the hangar door and waved me over.

"What's wrong?" I called, quick-stepping down the ramp.

"Not us. The ship across the way is broken down and the pilot asked if I knew a good mechanic around here." Karson slipped his arm around my shoulders and led me out into the corridor. "Lucky for them, I know a _very_ good mechanic. Want to make some extra creds?"

"Why not." I wouldn't sleep for a few more hours, anyway. If I was lucky, he'd have better tools than Karson. Those wastes of metal were tools in name only.

The ship in the adjoining hangar was nothing to look at, especially with its main access panel dangling by a single hinge and half the innards of the hyperdrive scattered across the floor. And I thought _Karson's_ ship was in bad shape.

I was about to back out and opt for sleep instead when my human boys from the club pounded down the ramp in their heavy boots, waving hydrospanners in each other's faces and arguing. Blondie stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me and Syn ran into him from behind.

"What's going on?" He glanced back and forth between the two of us.

"This is the mechanic I told you about," Karson answered, looking just a little too smug, as if he'd known how entertaining it would be to introduce a couple of spacers to a fixer in a very short skirt.

I sauntered forward, taking full advantage of their slack-jawed stares. "Hello again, boys. Quite a mess you got here."

"We been working on it," Syn said defensively. "She's comin' together."

"Mm - hmm." I reached down and picked up a coolant coil that was twisted completely the wrong way and pinned together with a lopsided clamp. "What's on this coil?"

"A flange retainer," Blond said. "Works great."

"It's upside down." I tossed it at him with a wink and propped my hands on my hips, gazing up into the hull. "Do I even _want_ to know why your axial stabilizer is fused to your transpacitor?"

Cutie glanced at Syn, who shrugged, and then back at me again. Why is it that some men are just plain adorable when they're oblivious?

"C'mere." I waved him over and put my hands on his shoulders, kicking off my high-heeled shoes and motioning for him to grab my foot. "Give me a boost, handsome."

He lifted me up so fast that I just barely missed banging my head on the hull. I glanced down to find him peering up at me with a half-cocked smirk and I remembered that I was still in my club clothes.

"Hey!" I leaned down, hanging my head out of the access panel. "If you get to look at my ass then I get to know your name."

Finally, a smile. "Cade." My gut did a little twist.

I smiled back. "Hand me that wrench, Cade."

Karson took his leave and I spent the next six hours coaxing the reluctant hyperdrive back to life. I should have been tired, but I wasn't. Maybe because the guys had stripped down to their undershirts as they handed me the heavier parts and tools. What can I say? It was a nice show.

By early afternoon, the ship was fixed - well, as fixed as it was going to get for now - and Cade invited me up to the galley for a drink. "Syn and me been talking," he said when we were all seated. "The _Mynock_ here needs a lot of work and we -"

"_Mynock?_" I interrupted. "That's your ship's name?"

Syn snickered and Cade glared at him. "Like I was saying. We could use a mechanic -"

"You ain't kidding -" I snorted, but he cut me off just as fast by sliding into the seat next to me until our legs were touching. Slipping his arm behind my seat, he turned on more charm than any human should be allowed to have.

"Look, Blue. I'm trying to offer you a job. You interested?"

I'd been called a lot of things, but "Blue?" Then I remembered the new hair color. My mouth had gone dry and I licked my lips quickly, hoping he couldn't tell that I was blushing under the heat of his pretty green eyes. "You guys aren't slavers or anything nasty like that, are you?"

"We're bounty hunters. Cash jobs only. No kiddies or slaves. That work for you?"

I studied him carefully, soaking up his emotions enough to know that he wasn't lying. Something passed behind Cade's eyes, like he could tell what I was doing. Were there human empaths? I'd never met one before.

Scooting out of my chair, I tossed my empty bottle in the recycler. "Lemme get some sleep and think about it, 'kay?"

"Deal, pateesa." Cade stood and walked me out. "We'll be here till tomorrow. And we still need to pay you for the work."

That's right. I'd forgotten about the creds for fixing the hyperdrive. Jaxan would have told me to turn around and get the money now, but I started down the exit ramp instead. I'd come back tomorrow and I needed to talk to Karson.

A job with the bounty hunter boys in their red pirate sashes and dilapidated ship could be interesting. If nothing else, it was a ticket off. And, if it didn't work out, I could find another ship. Or even go home and work with my dad. Leaving my job at the club would be as easy as tossing the uniform in the trash -

"Hey, Blue!"

Cade's voice startled me and I turned at the bottom of the landing ramp. _Blue._ Catchy. I could live with that.

"You got a name?"

Pushing my hair over my shoulder, I grinned up at him. "You got it, hon. Name's Blue. Deliah Blue."

--END--


End file.
